


Amazing

by reneewvlkers



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, M/M, Scars, god it's the post-baltimore scenes you all know what to expect, it's andrew's pov so all that entails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-11 01:04:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7869289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reneewvlkers/pseuds/reneewvlkers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andrew can be patient. His knuckles are red, and with that familiar pain comes a wave of calm. He has no control over this situation and that’s nothing new. Neil Josten is a force of nature; utterly unpredictable and infuriating. </p><p>But he knows one thing. Neil would not leave if he had a choice. He would come back to Exy, to the Foxes, to this godforsaken bus if he had to limp the whole way. And Andrew will be right here when he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amazing

**Author's Note:**

> as requested by [jess](http://prettyminyard.tumblr.com/) and an anon, this is what follows on from Neil's "Thank you. You were amazing." but in Andrew's pov. part of it has been posted on tumblr before, but most of it is new. hope you enjoy xo

_Thank you. You were amazing._ The words echo through Andrew’s mind after Neil says them, working through the clear significance of them and trying to link them to the sporadic clues Neil has given him. Why does it sound like the end of a letter?

He can’t ask, the others are around and they’re marching in a line as though they’re going to battle. It certainly sounds like a battle. A part of him wants to reach for Kevin and Neil, remind them of his presence, his protection, but he doesn’t. A crowd poses little threat, and besides, Neil isn’t under his protection. Not anymore. He pushes down the feeling of helplessness - Neil is enough to look after himself, at least until the time that no one can stop his fate.

Then they’re out into the crowd, and Andrew is so completely bombarded by sound and movement that it’s all he can do to push forward to the bus, and keep who he can with him.

But when they make it to the bus, they’ve scattered. Neil is lost, because of course he is, he somehow always finds a way to make things more dangerous than they need to be for himself. Others are bleeding, and no one seems overly concerned that anyone’s missing, so Andrew doesn’t let himself think the worst yet. He doesn’t think that Neil said goodbye. He doesn’t.

He can only sit still for so long. His legs start to twitch, but he stays still, impassive, because betraying the fear that he can feel creeping into his system will do no good.

As the minutes pass, he can see the concern growing between the looks the others pass one another. No one meets his eyes. That’s probably wise.

Someone knocks on the side of their bus, and Andrew only hears a tiny amount of the conversation - but it’s enough to know that the crowd has dispersed to the point that they can venture outside, and did someone drop their bag? It’s orange, so…

Andrew swings his legs and stands up, with a terse “Stay put,” to Kevin. He doesn’t think Kevin would be stupid enough to go running into a crowd, but then he hadn’t thought Neil would get lost as soon as he freed himself.

He ducks under Wymack’s arm to take the bag and rifle through it. “Neil’s,” he can ascertain after only a second, but he continues looking. He doesn’t even know what he’s looking for, just something to justify the thought that something’s wrong. “His phone.”

Wymack doesn’t look more concerned about the phone being left behind than the bag itself. Andrew almost couldn’t blame him; Neil had gone to lengths to prove how little he cared about the phone. But he wouldn’t leave it. Not now.

Andrew grits his teeth. “I’ll look for him.”

Wymack calls after him, “Andrew,” before he realises he can’t control him, and he never has been able to. Wymack shakes his head. “Just don’t be stupid.”

Andrew cocks his head. “I’m only following Neil’s lead, coach.”

Andrew almost doesn’t expect to find anything on his first circuit around the stadium. People are still milling about, and there’s trash and paramedics covering every available surface. He clutches his phone in his hand as though Neil’s number would come up any second. It is possible Neil ended up with another team - anything is possible with Neil Abram Josten, it seems.

The crowds thin by his third circuit, and Andrew’s pace increase. He’s not scared, he tells himself. He just knows where he’s going and where Neil can’t be. But he also can’t convince himself it’s a futile endeavour to keep looking.

But after a few more circles, Andrew has to acknowledge that Neil is not here and he hasn’t left any more hints. The only hint he left was that he had not run. He wanted Andrew to know that he was gone.

“Neil’s gone,” Andrew says to Wymack.

Wymack sighs, a heavy, disappointed sound. “He chooses a hell of a time.”

“He didn’t choose.” Andrew bites the words out. He can’t stop images of what could be happening from swirling through his mind. Something has happened to Neil and he couldn’t stop it. Neil didn’t want him to.

The thought that Neil knew this was happening almost blinds Andrew. He knew he was going, and he said goodbye. He said _thank you_ and _you were amazing_ and didn’t say a location, a clue, a person Andrew could choke information out of. But he wanted Andrew to know he wouldn’t have left on his own.

Typical. The first time Neil wants to stay, and he can’t. The injustice of it stings.

“What are you saying?” Wymack clearly doesn’t know whether to believe Andrew or not, but he just doesn’t know.

“Neil wouldn’t leave his phone. He said goodbye. He wanted me to know he didn’t go by choice.”

“So why did he go?”

“I don’t _know_ .” Andrew bites down the urge to hit something. _Later._

Wymack makes a frustrated sound. “What am I supposed to do, then?”

 _I don’t know._ Andrew stares. He hadn’t thought past this. He could tear apart the stadium and it wouldn’t change the fact that Neil isn’t here, and they don’t know how to find him.

Andrew goes to find something to hit. He needs to feel something that _isn’t this._ The feeling that he failed, and yet that there had been nothing he could have done differently.

Game over.

* * *

Andrew can be patient. His knuckles are red, and with that familiar pain comes a wave of calm. He has no control over this situation and that’s nothing new. Neil Josten is a force of nature; utterly unpredictable and infuriating.

But he knows one thing. Neil would not leave if he had a choice. He would come back to Exy, to the Foxes, to this godforsaken bus if he had to limp the whole way. And Andrew will be right here when he does.

* * *

News comes in the form of a phone call that turns Wymack from quietly tense to the human equivalent of a thunderstorm. He’s behind the wheel of the bus almost before he checks everyone’s there.

“Hold up,” Dan says. “Where are we going?”

“Baltimore,” Wymack says, through gritted teeth. Everyone reacts with varying degrees of confusion except Kevin, who goes a sickly white.

Andrew doesn’t even register moving until his hands are around Kevin’s neck and he’s pressing just hard enough that, although Kevin can talk, there’ll be bruises. There need to be. Kevin knew something and didn’t tell Andrew.

There’s movement and there’s someone half an inch from pulling Andrew off, but he can’t find it within him to care. “What is in Baltimore?”

Whatever’s in his tone is enough to give the person behind him pause, which is enough time for Kevin to gasp out, in a voice weaker than Andrew’s grip would cause, “Neil’s father.”

 _Interesting_. Neil’s parents aren’t dead, then. There’s a gasp and motion behind him, and that’s enough. Andrew filters the other Foxes out as background noise. They won’t touch him. If they do, they will feel steel. He tightens his fingers a fraction, just enough to tell Kevin to keep going.

“I don’t know much-”

“Oxygen is valuable to you right now, Kevin. We don’t have all day. Get to what you _do_ know.”

Kevin tries to swallow, but he gives up on that idea quickly. “Neil is Nathaniel Wesninski. Son of the Butcher of Baltimore. Butcher works for Moriyamas. Played little league with him for a little while. Then he disappeared. Didn’t recognise him. Only found out because of Riko. He didn’t think he’d last the year.” Kevin’s mouth moves to form another word, but he doesn’t go through with it. _I guess this is the end of his year_ goes unsaid.

Andrew’s hands shake with the effort of not constricting further. He releases Kevin and climbs out from the seat as casually as he can; there is nothing more Kevin can give to him. “Coach,” He says, almost cheerfully. “What’s the news?”

“Just a courtesy call,” Wymack spits out. “‘Your player is alive in Baltimore.’ Not so much as a place to go.”

Andrew nods, a short, sharp movement. “We can change that.”

* * *

He lets Wymack do the talking until they hit the wall of “we can’t share details of an ongoing investigation.” They get the names of the agents on the case, at least, the same Browning who called Wymack and another name that goes over Andrew’s head, and then Andrew finds their offices and lets his anger fly.

He ends up with an elbow to his eye as Wymack attempts to restrain him, and a few ineffective hits that won’t leave so much as a mark, then he’s handcuffed to Wymack. But a somewhat ruffled man relents and says if they are going to see Nathaniel, it won’t be here. The press are starting to camp out. “We’ll get a hotel room,” Wymack says.

The staff in the hotel try not to blink an eye at the fact that the man purchasing a room is handcuffed to someone half his age. Wymack tries not to blink an eye at Andrew pulling on the chain to test his boundaries.

A tall man is sent to their door. Someone calls him Kurt. “You can’t park the bus here. Anyone ever told you orange is conspicuous?”

“We’ll move it,” Wymack says, and _we_ has to include Andrew. He doesn’t argue at being away from the other Foxes. He can’t look at them.

When they come back, there’s an SUV on the corner and there is a trail that stinks of FBI. Andrew pulls ahead, Wymack trailing behind him but not stopping him. Someone tries to bar Andrew from entering the room, but he clearly underestimates the strength Andrew can hold in his five foot frame. The man hits the wall with a smack Andrew barely registers, cutting off a familiar voice saying “Where’s And-”

Andrew ignores the cold wave of relief that floods through him to push forward towards the dark clad boy who caused so much trouble. There’s movement behind him, Wymack, probably, but Andrew only notices Neil grabbing the arm of one of the agents - he’d been moving to reach a gun, apparently - then recoil to the ground.

“Don’t,” Neil forces through clenched teeth, and this, at least, Andrew knows how to handle. He clutches the back of Neil’s neck, because Neil can’t get lost again, not this soon. Andrew needs more than that before Neil is allowed out of his sight. Neil opens his eyes at Andrew’s physical presence and tries to straighten up. Andrew shoves him back, carefully, but not sparing any force.

“Leave it,” Wymack says, behind Andrew, not important. Andrew kneels down in front of Neil. Neil turns his hands over before meeting Andrew’s eyes.

There’s an order of things that must happen. Neil isn’t broken; if he was, he wouldn’t have immediately picked a fight with an agent. He’d have tried, sure, but he wouldn’t have made it halfway. Andrew takes in the multitudes of bandage covering Neil, trying to decide what’s most worth his attention. At the same time, Neil is looking at Andrew’s eye - he wonders briefly how gruesome the bruise is. “They could have blinded you. All that time fighting and you never learned to duck?”

Andrew meets Neil’s gaze and doesn’t look away. He doesn’t know how much of Neil - Nathaniel - Neil he knows. He can barely make out the blue of Neil’s eyes, and he doesn’t know if the flash of red is hair or blood.

He pulls down Neil’s hood and then runs a finger down the tape holding the bandages on Neil’s face together, trying to find the edges. The gauze on Neil’s right cheek is less layered, so Andrew starts with that. There are stitches, and Andrew instantly recognises the lines as from a knife. That’s not a surprise. The Butcher and his people aren’t known for guns. Andrew drops the gauze, then moves on to the rest.

Neil reacts more to the removal of this gauze; it pulls the charred skin around - charred. Burned, melted, bubbling; Andrew’s hand freezes a scant couple of inches from Neil’s face. He can feel his shoulders set, and he forces himself to set the bandages down.

Behind him, Wymack chokes out, “Christ, Neil.” There’s movement in front of him, but Andrew refuses to look past Neil. There’s the distant belief that Neil can’t stay. “Don’t,” Wymack says, firmly, no trace of the choking voice he’d had mere seconds ago.

“One at a time,” The agent says, and Andrew forcibly tunes them all out again. He places two fingers under Neil’s chin and turns his head so he can look at the burns closer; look at where the four should be. It’s not hard to figure out the motivation in the burns, because there isn’t a hint of the ink anymore, no matter how hard Andrew searches.

The sight of the marred skin brings back the part of Andrew that reacts to the helpless feeling. He drops his hand and clenches it in Neil’s hoodie as though he can hold on tight enough that no one can take Neil from him again, and hates every millimeter of movement.

“I’m sorry,” Neil says, and Andrew’s handcuffed arm pulls back without even a conscious thought. The anger humming through his veins is hard to tame, and Andrew can feel his arm shake in the attempt not to put Neil’s face through any more today. With a gargantuan effort, Andrew forces his hand to go limp and hang as far as the handcuffs will allow.

“Say it again and I will kill you.”

One of the tall men says, “This is the last time I’m going to say it to you. If you can’t stow that attitude and behave-” Andrew vaguely recollects attempting to hit him earlier. He can’t remember if any of the hits landed. He hopes they did.

Neil breaks eye contact with Andrew in order to glare in a direction. “You’ll what, asshole?” That’s familiar.

“The same goes for you, Nathaniel,” Someone else says. Andrew’s hand twitches at the name. “That’s your third strike. A third misstep and this is over. Remember you are only here because we are allowing it.”

And that’s it. The name and the threats- Andrew makes to move, but Neil moves into Andrew’s space, just an inch away, and frames his face between bandaged hands. Andrew takes this for the command it is and holds still. He’ll leave the troublemaking to Neil; he seems to be better at it, anyway.

His reward is a quick glance before an icy glare is thrown somewhere over Andrew’s shoulder. “Don’t lie to a liar. We both know I’m here because you have nothing without me. A pile of dead bodies can’t close cases or play the money trail with you. I told you what those answers would cost you and you agreed to pay it, so take this handcuff off of Andrew, get your man out of our way, and stop using up my twenty minutes with your useless posturing.”

Twenty minutes. That’s not nearly long enough for Neil to explain himself, but it’s not time Andrew will waste fighting when Neil holds him in place.

After some moments of silence, there’s movement and a key in a lock. Andrew flexes his fingers to check the freedom, but he does not move his eyes from Neil. There won’t be anyone taking this from him, not yet. More movement, and then Neil is satisfied enough to return his attention to Andrew.

“So the attitude problem wasn’t an act, at least,” Andrew says. It’s the only thing he’s seen today that’s been a comfort.

“I was going to tell you.”

“Stop lying to me.”

“I’m not lying.” Andrew almost scoffs. “I would have told you last night, but they were in our locker room.”

 _Interesting._ “They who?” The agent says.

Without missing a beat, Neil swaps to German. “Those weren’t security guards that came for us. They were there for me, and they would have hurt all of you to get me out of there. I thought by keeping my mouth shut I could keep you safe.” With one of the hands still lingering by Andrew’s face, he taps a thumb against the bruise at Andrew’s eye. “I didn’t know they’d staged a riot.”

“What did I tell you about playing the martyr card?”

“You said no one wanted it. You didn’t tell me to stop.”

“It was implied.”

“I’m stupid, remember? I need things spelled out.”

The fact that they’re back to this, this to-and-fro of easy, casual conversation with this much injury and hurt between today and yesterday almost feels like it could cause Andrew physical pain. “Shut up.”

“Am I at ninety-four yet?” Neil’s gaze is intense, yet it’s clear he feels some relief that Andrew hasn’t pushed him away.

“You are at one hundred. What happened to your face?” He can’t put it off for longer.

Neil takes a hard gulp, suddenly nauseous. “A dashboard lighter.”

Behind Neil, Nicky looks like he’s gagging. Aaron rolls off the bed where he’s sat to go stand by Nicky, spitting out a curse as he goes. Neil turns to watch the motion, which lets the others see his burns. Kevin slams into a wall, pushed, apparently, by the force of him grabbing his own face.

Dan is only barely able to hold Matt back, white-knuckled with the effort. He struggles for only a second before settling for a hoarse, “Jesus, Neil. The fuck did they do to you?”

Abby starts to move around one of the beds, almost frantically, but Andrew can’t let anyone take Neil from him now. He grabs Neil to turn his attention back, then glares at Abby with all the leftover aggression he hasn’t yet been able to funnel to someone’s face. She stops immediately. “Get away from us.”

“Andrew,” She says, firm and gentle all at once. “He’s hurt. Let me see him.”

“If you make me repeat myself you will not live to regret it.” Andrew can hear the murder in his tone, and almost marvels at the fact that Neil seems to relax under his hands.

Neil cautiously tugs at Andrew’s hair, the only one not scared of the death Andrew is promising. He knows Andrew’s hands are protection, that the violence they hold is not to hurt him, not seriously, not anymore. Not ever. Neil will never be hurt again if Andrew has his way.

He still resists Neil’s pull, once, twice, not certain his threat is delivered effectively enough, before returning his attention to Neil. Neil hasn’t moved since Andrew redirected his attention, and he only speaks now that Andrew is safely looking back. “Abby, I just got out of the hospital. I’m as good as I can be right now.”

Abby’s voice is distant, unimportant. “Neil.”

“Please,” Neil’s breath is warm on Andrew’s face. Andrew watches Abby take a step back in his peripheral vision and relaxes his grip on Neil.

Neil lowers one of his hands from Andrew’s hair, trusting him not to leap at the next person stupid enough to move. In German he says, “Did they tell you who I am?”

“They didn’t have to. I choked the answers out of Kevin,” Neil looks surprised, and Andrew can’t fathom why he would. The bruises on Kevin’s neck shout Andrew’s name. “Guess you weren’t an orphan after all. Where is your father now?”

“My uncle executed him,” Neil presses two fingers from his free hand over Andrew’s heart, so Andrew can feel it from his head to his chest when a shudder runs through Neil’s body. “I spent my whole life wishing he would die, but I thought he never would. I thought he was invincible. I can’t believe it was that easy.” Neil’s voice is full of wonder; one would think he was talking about a religious miracle rather than cold-blooded murder. But perhaps that’s not a surprise. He was raised on murder.

“Was it easy? Kevin told us who he worked for.” And no one had to tell him what Neil had been through to get here. It was written on his face, on his chest, in his every action.

“My uncle said he was going to try and negotiate a ceasefire. I don’t know if he’s strong enough to bargain with them, but I’d like to think he wouldn’t have risked it without real ground to stand on.” Neil’s tone says he thinks things might actually turn out to be fine for the first time in his life. “Promise me no one’s told the FBI about them.”

“No one’s said a word to them since they said we couldn’t see you.”

Neil makes a choking sound that Andrew supposes was supposed to be a word. He clears his throat before trying again, “But why? I’ve done nothing but lie to them. I willingly put them all in danger so I could play a little longer. They got hurt last night because of me. Why would they protect me now?”

Neil’s obliviousness about the Foxes and their hive mentality had never been endearing, and it surely wasn’t going to start now. “You are a fox.”

Neil’s eyes drop from Andrew’s for the first time, and he runs a hand harshly along his jaw. His voice is barely recognisable, low and mangled, as he says, “Andrew, they want to take me away from here. They want to enroll me in the Witness Protection Program so my father’s people can’t find me. I don’t want-” There’s a brief pause, and Andrew barely hears Neil’s next words over the rush of blood in his ears, “If you tell me to leave, I’ll go.”

Anger brutally twists Andrew’s fingers in the collar of Neil’s hoodie, but he has enough restraint to pull just enough for Neil to feel. Neil, the enigma, relaxes slightly under the pressure. Andrew speaks in English, to rally the troops behind Neil, “You aren’t going anywhere. You’re staying with us. If they try to take you away they will lose.”

The Foxes don’t disappoint. Dan immediately echoes, “Take you away. To where?”

Matt follows, his tone demanding, “Are we talking about ‘away for some questioning’ or ‘away for good’?”

The agent barely sounds fazed, which shows how little he’s learnt from his encounters with the Foxes’ stubbornness so far. “Both.”

“You can’t have him,” Nicky’s voice cuts through, loud and annoying as ever. It may be the first time Andrew has been thankful for it. “He belongs with us.”

“When people find out he is still alive they will come for him,” The agent sounds almost bored, but Andrew can hear the annoyance that has been radiating off him. “It is not safe for him here anymore, and it sure as hell isn’t safe for you. It is better for everyone if he disappears.”

 _No_ , Andrew thinks, and from the unimpressed looks on the gathered people in front of him, the sentiment is echoed.

Allison’s rehearsed monotone comes next. “What part of ‘go to hell’ do you need us to explain to you?”

Matt speaks again, rationality and threat in equal measures, “We’re all legal adults here. We’ve made our decision. Unless he wants to stay with you, you’d better bring Neil back to us when you’re done with all your questions.”

The annoyance finally wins through in the agent’s tone, “‘Neil’ isn’t a real person. It’s just a cover that let Nathaniel evade authorities. It’s past time to let him go.”

Neil feels real under Andrew’s fingertips.

“Neil or Nathaniel or whoever. He’s ours, and we’re not letting him go. You want us to vote on it or something? Bet you it’ll be unanimous,” Nicky says, loud bravado almost more serious than ever before.

“Coach Wymack, talk some sense into your team.”

Wymack has his battle face on when he turns. “Neil,” he says, and Neil looks up at him. Tension leaves his body at what he sees. “Talk to me. What do you want?”

Neil swallows hard, and his words are all sharp phrases falling from his mouth. “I want- I know I shouldn’t stay, but I can’t- I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to lose any of you. I don’t want to be Nathaniel anymore. I want to be Neil for as long as I can.” Neil’s fingers are almost painful in Andrew’s hair, but he welcomes it.

“Good. I’d have a hell of a time fitting ‘Wesninski’ on a jersey,” Wymack says, clearly taking relish in the agent’s stress.

“I would like a word with you.” The agent says, no longer even paying attention to the assembled Foxes.

“About?”

“Your willingness to put your players in considerable danger, for one.”

Wymack never stands firmer than when he talks about protecting his Foxes. “Giving up on Neil now goes against everything we are. I’m game to argue with you about it for as long as it takes, but not if it means using up Neil’s allotted time. That’s not fair to any of them.”

The sickening reminder that they only have twenty minutes- shorter now. Andrew tugs Neil’s hoodie and speaks in German once more, “Get rid of them before I kill them.”

“They’re waiting for answers. They were never able to charge my father while he was alive. They’re hoping I know enough to start decimating his circle in his absence. I’m going to give them the truth, or as much of it as I can without telling them my father was acting on someone’s orders.” Neil’s words tumble from his mouth, desperate, and his fingers still cling to Andrew. It’s comforting, almost, that Neil seems as unwilling to let Andrew go as Andrew is to Neil. “Do you want to be there for it? It’s the story I should have given you months ago.”

Finally, an easy question. “I have to go. I don’t trust them to give you back,” With a marked effort, he releases Neil and stands up. Neil will still be there. Neil will still be beside him.

Neil gets up on his own and looks over Andrew’s head at Wymack. In English, he says, “I’m sorry. I should have told you, but I didn’t.”

“Don’t worry about that right now. Twenty minutes isn’t near long enough for this conversation. We can talk about it on the ride back to campus, right?”

“Yes,” Neil says, voice light with relief. “I promise. I just have to talk to them first.”

“Then go,” Dan cuts in. When Neil looks at her, she continues, “But come back to us as soon as they’re done with you, okay? We’ll figure this out as a team.”

“As a family,” Nicky butts in, with a weak attempt at a smile.

Neil says, “Thank you,” almost too overwhelmed to get the words out.

Allison waves off his thanks with a practiced wave that doesn’t match her stony expression. “No, thank you. You just closed three outstanding bets and made me five hundred bucks.” Neil glances at her, clearly surprised the Foxes had cared that much about him. “I’d rather find out exactly why and when you two hooked up than think about this awfulness any longer, so let’s talk about that on the ride back instead.”

Andrew’s inferior twin looks between Allison, Neil and Andrew, clearly expecting one of them to deny Allison’s claim. When the three of them meet him with blank looks, Aaron’s expression goes slack. Nicky then opens and closes his mouth without saying anything, staring at Neil.

Neil suddenly seems exhausted, and he looks at Andrew again. “Ready?”

“Waiting on you.” As always.

“I didn’t invite him,” The agent cuts in again, uninvited.

Wymack almost sounds amused as he says, “Trust me, you’ll fare a lot better if you take them both.”

The agent flicks a calculating look between Andrew and Neil, then clearly decides it’s not worth his time to argue, “We’re leaving now.”

Wymack moves out of the way, but talks as soon as Neil reaches the door. “We’ll wait for you, all right? As long as it takes, Neil.”

Neil nods, thankful, and steps out onto the balcony. He and Andrew descend the stairs behind the agent and sit in the backseat of the SUV still waiting. The agent, clearly sick of the lack of cooperation, makes like an angry toddler to slam his door shut before he starts driving.

The car is almost silent until the hotel has disappeared behind other buildings, when Neil turns to Andrew and speaks in German, “Can I really be Neil again?”

His words clutch at Andrew’s chest. “I told Neil to stay. Leave Nathaniel buried in Baltimore with his father.” He wants nothing more to do with Nathaniel beyond his story.

Neil looks out the window again before considering his palm and tracing a shape into it, looking for all the world like the protagonist in a teen drama. A teen drama that Andrew finds himself incapable of escaping, no matter how much he may want to.

Neil whispers quietly, “Neil Abram Josten,” and Andrew thinks it sounds right.


End file.
